


Thirty days

by Jimmybean



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, M/M, This is mostly just a partner swap fic, Traces of Jimlock, murder boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9480272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimmybean/pseuds/Jimmybean
Summary: In which John and Sebastian swap places and see how the other lives.





	

“Boss-” Moran’s voice was full of exasperation, and he got cut off by Jim once again. Moriarty had been doing this all day. Well, if you counted waking up at 1:30 AM and being forced to listen to multiple soliloquies over how much fun this would be. Sebastian was running on a empty tank of gas. 

“Be a good pet for daddy, won’t you?” Jim cooed, running a hand through his perfectly slicked back hair already. It was clearly a nervous sign, which only made Sebastian frown more. Jim Moriarty conveyed his feelings through actions, not words. Even when he was saying something, he could be lying. You had to listen to his voice for the emotion. He could playfully threaten to kill Sebastian, and it would be said like an “I love you”. 

“This is stupid.” Another sigh as Jim butted in before he could say another word. 

“No, this is fun my darling. You’ll see. I might not like John, and you might not like Sherlock, but just the idea of seeing how alike we are is truly a good prospect. Who knows, we might not even notice a change and it’ll be even longer than 30 days.” That made Sebastian go quiet, his body tensed with fear. Please no, he thought to himself. He already didn’t know how he was even going to survive the first /day/, much least 30 of them. He couldn’t bare if it was permanent. 

“Oh don’t do that, tiger dear. I need my sniper too much. I doubt John will be able to shoot people unless I give him a full backstory on all the other baddies we take out. Might not even be able to do that. My work will definitely go downhill.” He tutted as he watched a car park outside their building. “There’s Johnny boy. Let’s go meet him.” 

James grabbed Sebastian’s hand and gently tugged on it, before sashaying his hips out their flat door. Moran obediently followed, completely wary and unsure of what was going to happen- admittedly like usual. Solving crimes that Jim makes for 30 days. What bollocks. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock had sent him alone, and John had never felt more terrified- that was a lie, he’d felt more scared at the pool, but still. This was almost as scary. Walking up towards the spider's web with a duffel bag, with the intent of staying 30 days with a spider. They had signed a contract and everything that no harm would come to John or Sebastian, that they’d let Moriarty and Moran walk free after this. Sherlock was purely interested in this for the experiment, for the science. The geniuses were bored. 

That’s mostly what had Watson stepping out of the car. He wanted to find something to keep Sherlock’s restless mind happy- anything to keep him from the drugs. He watched as Moriarty walked out the door with said Moran in tow- the 6 foot 1 blonde looked gloomy and stoic. Almost as unhappy as John. He didn’t say goodbye, just left a lingering hand on his lower back, duffel in his other hand looking exactly like John’s, which made the army doctor wince. Jesus Christ, they really were alike. 

Moran slowly got into the car and shut it, and John could swear he saw a longing look on Moriarty’s face for two seconds before it cleared of almost all emotion. Just like Sherlock, he thought to himself in slight surprise. 

“Well come on Johnny boy, let me show you up. All the other rooms are filled so I’m afraid you’ll have to sleep in my bed- but don’t worry, I hardly ever use it.” His voice was already annoying the weary John as he followed him up into his flat. 

“How many people do you got in your flat then, if you’re so filled up?” He questioned.

“Just one! My twin, Richie- you met him. He’s hardly ever here but he bunks occasionally. And then the other two rooms….well one has a tub of acid, and the other one is full of guns. I doubt either are preferable, the couch is constantly taken up by me somehow, so you’re better in my bed. Besides Johnny- I have the most wonderfully posh mattress. You’ll love it. But first, we have to get you a gun-” 

“Why the HELL would I need a gun?!” John snapped with a raised voice, making Moriarty’s eyebrows raise in what would be a surprised expression- if not for the fact he knew Moriarty was hardly ever surprised. 

“As per the contracts clause, you and Moran will be fulfilling each other's roles. While Sebastian will be helping Sherlock solve the crimes like you do, you’ll at the very least be helping to protect me while I make the crimes. This means shooting anyone who tries to kill me, etc. I, at the very least, need a bodyguard.” Jim’s smile was cruel and made him feel unsettled by the thought. John had always abided by a moral code- helping Jim make crimes to hurt possibly innocent people didn’t sit right with him. 

“And you just can’t get anyone else to do it?” The doctor repeated, calmer but still enraged. 

“Heavens no, I couldn’t trust someone else around here to watch me with a gun. Except you, of course, because you know that if you kill me, Sebastian kills Sherlock- and you know he has the skill. Of course, the same happens if Sebastian kills Sherlock- you kill me. I don’t mind, it’d be fair and square. Now,” Jim finished as he walked into the flat and went down a hall. “What gun do you like? I have plenty.” 

John ends up choosing a Glock 19, handgun. It’s nice and he can tell himself in his head that he won’t have to use it, it’s just for safety precautions. As he tucks it into his waistband, he sees Jim hunched over his phone texting. 

“Who are you texting?” The question startles Jim. Moran never asked, he was always just the silent, stoic type. He feels slightly irritated by this. 

“Someone.” He replies, sliding the phone into his pocket. He walks out of the gun room, John in tow, and pulls out his wallet, setting it on the table. “Get some groceries, I’m sure you’ll need them. Make sure to also get some takeout, I don’t care what type, I just know that I would like to eat today. I’ll be in my study, I have some planning to do. Just text me when you come home.” And before John can get a word in, Jim is strolling down the hall to think. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hi.” Sebastian said gruffly as he entered the flat. Mrs Hudson had led him up the stairs- she was so much like Mrs Halifax, their woman who helped their operation and held their flat at conduit street. Moran was struck by the likeness of Moriarty that Sherlock had, lying on the couch, eyes closed with a lighter between his hands.

“Oh please do tell me you have a cigarette. John made me clear out my stash before he left, but I assume you have some.” the low baritone voice uttered after Mrs Hudson had left them room, muttering about making tea. The poor woman had seemed frightened by him, almost. 

“A pack, yeah. It’s all Jim allowed me for these 30 days, I’m not going to waste one on you. Get your own.” Moran grumbled as he settled into a chair, taking said pack out. “I’ll share one with you if you be a good little genius.” It was something Seb would have said to Moriarty, and Jim would have threatened to chop off his balls before climbing into the sniper’s lap and kissing him, stealing the smoke from his mouth. Jim didn’t like his smoking- but it didn’t mean that the little crim wouldn’t share some from time to time. 

“I’m clearly taller than Moriarty, almost as tall as you. It doesn’t work that way.” Sherlock sat up, his ice blue eyes feeling as if they were cutting shreds into him. “Cigarette, now.” The order in his voice had Moran helplessly handing over the lit cigarette before he quite realised what he was doing. It had been so much like Jim it was almost Pavlovian for Sebastian. He watched as Sherlock took a long drag of it, eyes staring directly at him before letting the smoke out. 

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun.” The detective said as he handed the cigarette to him. “I have to assume that putting up with Moriarty, you can work for days without sleep, right?” Sherlock was already padding off into the kitchen, looking like he was fiddling with some sort of test tubes. Almost fucking uncanny to Jim. 

“Sure.” Sebastian said as he took in his own drag. However, sleep was what kept him from getting grouchy. He needed to text Jim- If Holmes intended to keep him up for days, maybe his boss would allow him some drugs at least- 

A text pinged his phone. He brought it out of his pocket and opened it, shoulders squaring a little as he read it. Fuckin’ Jim, did he have this place bugged or something? 

“No drugs, tiger, or you’ll be sorry. JMx.” Sherlock read out, not even looking at the phone. Moran was unnerved. 

“You’re a fucking creep.” There was a bitterness in Sebastian’s tone, no one called him tiger except for James. 

“You’re one to talk Moran, I've read your history. Scar over your eye? Your now dead brother did that. Lack of a left nipple? Tiger. Bullet scar and cuts over your thigh? Self-harm. That cute little carving in your back? Moriarty, of course.” Sherlock rattled off. Sebastian could feel himself turning Vermillion. 

“How the fuck-” Sebastian startled, standing up and clenching his fists. 

“Thank you for confirming, most of those were guesses.” Sherlock’s smile was malicious, and so much like Moriarty’s that it struck fear into Sebastian’s heart. “Please, it’s exactly what Jim can do. Except he doesn’t like guessing as much, he likes knowing. He loves to dig up information and be gleeful about having power over someone, doesn’t he? Tell me, Moran, how you two met.” 

Sebastian supposed he didn’t really have a choice, so he began. “We met-” Thinking about it properly made his head clearer. “I had been dishonourably discharged, and they were about to put me in prison for it. Then this little crim walks into the room, and he’s all fucking posh and stupid looking, and his voice is so obviously gay-” Moran remembers the desperation he felt, also the anger that this little Irish bastard had just waltzed in and offered to get him out of this- for a price. 

“So he paid them, and they fudged the records. How much?” Sherlock asked. He sounded intrigued. 

“A year's worth of my salary, and you can only imagine how much I normally make a month.” Sherlock did the math, and his eyebrows rose a little.

“That's an amazing figure to invest in you.” Moran smirked a little. 

“I’m good. Loyalty is hard to buy in a sniper like me. And for getting me out of jail- well i’m sure to be a good little lapdog for him and not leave.” Sebastian chuckled a little to himself at that, lounging back in his chair. It was comfortable, though a bit short. 

A noise downstairs. If Sebastian had cat ears, they would have twitched. “What was that?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“A case. The game is on, Moran. I’m excited to have you on my side today.”


End file.
